Master Suelove
by Meir Brin
Summary: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Came to Love the Mary Sue "Saruliel was a Mary Sue/ Perfect, flawless, fair and true/ Dwelling now in Tolkien's Realm/ The Fellowship work to bring her down..."
1. Inspiration from the Divine Protector

Why Not Use this Evil  
  
Author's Note: I do not own Lord of the Rings, in any way, shape, or form. Middle-Earth belongs to Tolkien the Great, the character of Saruliel is the culmination of the collective Mary Sue masses, and the One Ring belongs to Sauron.  
  
This could fall into the category of AU, as it is a parody, but then again, are not all parodies in fact AU?  
  
*********  
  
"Why do they find us so appealing?" exclaimed Lord Elrond.  
  
Vilya stared back at him. Just because one is a Ring of Power does not mean that one can speak. Or in this case, it does not mean that one has the properties of a standard Magic Eight-ball.  
  
"Am I disturbing you?" asked Aragorn, entering into the dim light of the chamber. Aragorn had never known Lord Elrond to talk to himself. Trees, yes. Himself, no. "You did call this meeting, correct?"  
  
Elrond sighed wearily. "Yes, yes. Sit down, Estel." Lord Halfelven gestured to a series of chairs that had been placed in the darkened room.  
  
"If you don't mind my asking, why was this council called in the cellar?" questioned Aragorn, taking a proffered chair amid the wine casks. He settled his Ranger's cloak about himself and found it odd that someone had taken the time to launder his clothes. Then he remembered. Aragorn had discovered long ago that Elrond's household had explicit instructions to clean anything of his that passed into Rivendell. Elves seemed to have an odd aversion to dirt, but that may just have been the Elves' aversion to dirt on their plush carpets. "And why call us together at such an early hour?"  
  
"Something I would also like to know," added the voice of Frodo. The hobbits had arrived. Merry was towing Pippin in by the back of his shirt- coat, while Sam stifled a yawn and shut the heavy door. As soon as he was fully inside, Pippin seemed to realize that he was in Elrond's Extremely Secret Wine Cellar and proceeded to wake up.  
  
"All will be explained. At the moment it is vital that we are not seen. This is a very secret meeting." Gandalf had come, prodding a bleary-eyed Boromir with his wizard staff.  
  
"We're at a secret meeting?" Pippin was now fully awake.  
  
"As secret as a meeting can ever be in the house of an Elf." That statement from Gimli.  
  
Silence. That statement from Legolas.  
  
"Good, all are accounted for." Elrond waited until they had settled themselves down before continuing. "Now, do we all know what will happen this afternoon?"  
  
"Nuzzer Council." said Pippin groggily. As Lord Elrond had given him the "If You Touch The Wine I Will Be Sure To Put Something Alive And Angry In Your Rucksack" look, Pippin had gone into his previous state of being half- asleep. "Less secret."  
  
"Saruliel will be there," added Elrond. "She will try to take the Ring. We know the process."  
  
The soon-to-be Fellowship fidgeted nervously. A wondrous Elf maiden had appeared again, Saruliel. She would be there, at the Council. Waiting. Outshining them. In every possible way, She was perfect. The Fellowship shivered. If one could equate being in the Fellowship of the Ring to eating ice cream, Mary Sues would be the accompanying ice cream headache.  
  
"Cannot we just kill Her, Master Elrond? My axe could slice a neck such as hers with ease. We would not have to put up with Her, and Frodo could perhaps arrive at Mt. Doom on schedule." Gimli stroked the blade of his axe fondly, and even Legolas smiled at the thought of the Sue waking up due to imminent decapitation.  
  
"Do any of us know why our Quest is stopped so often just after the Breaking? Now we are back here at Imladris. I would like to see Mr. Frodo back complete the Quest at least once." Sam had voiced the opinion of them all. Caught up in an endless loop of Perfect Heroines, the Fellowship waited for Movie Two, which would perhaps lengthen the endless Loop of Sue. It was a manageable goal, going ahead one movie at a time.  
  
The characters sighed. Surely this Limbo would end soon? Tolkien, their Divine Protector, would drive the Sues from the land? The Fellowship's unanimous message reached the Divine Protector. The Divine Protector would help his creations. He sent a single beam of inspiration to Lord Elrond.  
  
Light gathered around the Elven Lord, illuminating the tiny cellar. "I've found it! The solution!" Lord Elrond sprang to his feet with Elven grace and uncharacteristic happiness. "This will solve all of our problems! Boromir-"  
  
Boromir stopped drooling on his shirt and straightened up. "Whaisit?"  
  
"When Peter Jackson and those funny men with the black boxes were here, what did you say to them?" Lord Elrond was practically shaking with excitement. Which, considering Lord Elrond's age, meant that he has received Amazing Enlightenment, such as one who has been told that they have been wearing their left shoe on their right foot and not known it.  
  
Boromir pulled out his old script from the time when Peter Jackson and the men with the black boxes decided to follow them around for a Quest cycle. He brushed some dust off of the book. "It is a gift... A gift to the foes of Mordor?"  
  
"After that, Son of Gondor." Gandalf, in his wizardly knowledge seemed to have guessed Lord Elrond's meaning. Gandalf was quite good at that. It was a useful party trick that he often used to confuse hobbits, among other creatures.  
  
Boromir looked down for his next line. "Why not use this power?" he asked, glancing up from the script in a perplexed manner.  
  
Gandalf furrowed his brow. "It is a wise thought, Master Elrond, yet the undertaking of such a task, let alone the convincing of the partaking such a task... It would be a quest in itself."  
  
"If we were to use Her pride..." Aragorn looked apologetically at Legolas. "You might have to play along a bit, in the beginning, perhaps."  
  
Legolas sank down slightly in his seat. Sam looked awestruck. The hobbit had never seen an Elf slouch before. "What would this entail? I will not touch Her," said the Elf.  
  
"Come, now, Legolas. She is Galadriel's step-niece."  
  
"Galadriel does not have a 'step-niece'." pointed out Gandalf. "Saruliel is a Sue. She is not of our world. Sadly, She must be tolerated." A moment of silence as the ten characters cursed standard disclaimers.  
  
"I... I will do as is asked of me. For the good of the Fellowship." Legolas sighed wearily. Why did they find *him* so appealing?  
  
Elrond appeared grimly satisfied. "We will use this Evil to our advantage. Saruliel is powerful, there is no doubt. Let us put her power to the test. She shall be the vanguard, staying ahead to ward off the danger that approaches. Perhaps without her interference you may see out your Quest to the end."  
  
"She would bear the brunt of our journey. The goblins that Uncle Bilbo spoke of..." Frodo sounded thoughtful.  
  
"She would take their arrows. And yet, Master Elrond, what would be our state if Saruliel were to die in her task?" Gimli questioned.  
  
Aragorn and Boromir smiled simultaneously. "No more Sue!"  
  
The soon-to-be Fellowship of the Ring leaned in closer to Master Elrond as the Elven lord outlined the plan. It was late morning before the group disbanded, wanting to rest and preserve their strength for the role-playing that would take place in the afternoon. 


	2. Roleplayers with a Cause

The Council of Elrond was winding down to a close. The spawning ground of the Mary Sue had been laid bare. Soon it would begin. Lord Elrond twitched his robes nervously. Saruliel would be upon them, and they had to keep their heads in order to survive.  
  
Aragorn and Frodo were standing next to Legolas. "Take deep breaths, Legolas," the Ranger advised. Legolas nodded and braced himself for the encounter.  
  
Elrond stood. They were doing "black-box-verse", so he had to say it. "You shall be the Fellowsh-"  
  
"What be'ast thyne all doing here?" said an obnoxious, high-pitched voice. Saruliel had arrived.  
  
She was an Elf, a pretty Elf, but not a true one. Her hair was blonde and "Sunkist", or, as Aragorn put it, "like an orange... color". She was slender, tall, and very fair of face. But Saruliel was insanely stupid. Elrond had no idea that one's intelligence could shrink below that of a cook pot, yet Saruliel was living proof.  
  
Lord Elrond looked down at Vilya. "Why me?" he muttered, before pasting a happy Elven grin onto his face and turning to face Her.  
  
Boromir hid his smile and winked roguishly at Gandalf. It was the Istari who had suggested the next bit. "We are attending a secret council meeting. Women are not allowed to attend, as they are weaker than the great exalted male gender."  
  
Saruliel bit one "blood-red" lip and Elrond could see her "brain-cogs" working. That was an iffy suggestion, as Elrond had up to that point figured that Sues did not have brains. Yet if Sues could indeed think, this was Elrond's guess at Saruliel's train of thought.  
  
Boromir = chauvinist  
  
Chauvinist = female weakness true  
  
Female weakness true = No Mary Sue  
  
No Mary Sue = Bad bad  
  
Boromir = Bad bad  
  
"Mister Boromir, you sayist that I be'ast weaker then thine, but I beggest thine to reconsider me as braver and bolder than a many people sitting here." Saruliel said, smiling prettily at the Council. Boromir settled into chair in a satisfied manner as Saruliel simpered at Legolas.  
  
Legolas smiled sarcastically, but rolled his eyes when the Sue looked away. Taking this as a sign of encouragement, Saruliel continued. "And lo I be'ast nay twenty, I be'ast wise beyond my years and a great spell-doer with full magic."  
  
Gandalf was eying Saruliel under his bushy eyebrows warily. "'Spell- doer'?! By the Valar I hope this Quest destroys her," he muttered to Frodo.  
  
"... As Queen Galadriel's step-niece I have also learnt strong Spelling from her. I be'ast not less in worthiness here than anyplace, Mister Boromir."  
  
Elrond growled at the reference to Galadriel. Saruliel seemed to take this as a grin. Sam wondered if Saruliel was hard of hearing. Elven laughs are merry. Elven growls sound like cheese graters being scraped over stone slates.  
  
"'Spelling'? She cannot 'Spell'... How ridiculous..." Gandalf murmured.  
  
Saruliel laughed happily and sat down in a seat at Elrond's right. Elladan, who had formerly occupied this chair, was somewhere deep in the gardens of Imladris pounding rocks into the ground. Elven anger management was truly peculiar.  
  
Frodo was stepping up to the plate. It was his turn to act. "O mighty Saruliel, truly you have wisdom beyond many a year! Please help me, for I am only one Hobbit against the world, and I wish only to return to the Shire. Aide me please, O fair lady Elf!"  
  
Saruliel's lips parted to give an "awww!" but she caught herself in time to reply: "Mister Frodo," Sam bristled in his bush-hiding spot. Only *he* called Mr. Frodo "Mr. Frodo". Saruliel would pay for crossing this Hobbit. "I willest protectest thine through life to deadness. What be'ast thine task?"  
  
Aragorn jumped to his feet. He had to get the contract here and now, or all would be lost. "Truly, Lady Saruliel? You will protect Frodo through every peril we come across? Every bloody trial? Every mind-bending, dirty, twisting obstacle of uncouth horror? Every bleeding, whinging, evilly trying task of gruesome wrath? Every-"  
  
"Enough, Aragorn," said Lord Elrond, smiling slightly. "Do you agree, Saruliel?"  
  
Saruliel appeared confused. "We're going to get dirty?" Her demeanor snapped into place. "Of course, on thine stars of the gods I thus doest do make my swearing."  
  
Gandalf smacked himself in the face.  
  
Gimli was up to bat. "But how best could this simple Elf-maiden do such a thing? We have a full company already assembled, what could Lady Saruliel do?"  
  
"Yee could use-eth one more companion, nay be'ast I correct?"  
  
Aragorn whispered to Boromir: "Verily, Lady. Thou nay 'be'ast' correct." The Man of Gondor chuckled.  
  
Legolas grimaced. His turn. "I must say that I have found the solution to our dilemma. Saruliel, wise and fair, will you go ahead of our company and protect our road?"  
  
Saruliel looked at him blankly. "What?"  
  
"Oh for goodness' sakes, Sar- Fair Lady Saruliel," said Sam, jumping forward and knocking Merry and Pippin aside. "Mr. Legolas is asking you to go ahead of our party and clear a path to protect us! It's a simple idea, really!"  
  
Saruliel was thinking again. The cogs were spinning...  
  
Clearing Path = Helping Frodo  
  
Helping Frodo = Helping Fellowship  
  
Helping Fellowship = Helping Legolas  
  
Legolas = Yummy  
  
"I willest suffer myself to undertake such a treacherously dangerful road." Saruliel floated off to pack her bags, leaving the air at the Council smelling much cleaner.  
  
"Hurrah! We did it, Mr. Frodo!" cried Sam.  
  
Merry and Pippin jumped up and down ecstatically. "The Sue is going! Going! Going!"  
  
"But not yet gone," sighed Legolas. The Elf of Mirkwood shuddered and strode back to his seat. The Sues had always hit Legolas the hardest.  
  
"Cheer up, Legolas," said Aragorn. "In the words of the Sue herself, at least we 'willest suffer herself' for only a short span of time." 


	3. Hollin: The Telephone Incident

Our story continues somewhere in Hollin...  
  
Saruliel skipped merrily in front of the Fellowship, singing in what she probably thought was Elvish. In actuality it sounded like "Near-ith! Far- ith! Where-ith-ever (ith) thou art! I believe-ith that mine heart-ith willst go-ith oooooooonnnn!" with a smattering of "havodads", "mithrils", and "Yrchs" thrown in.  
  
About twenty paces behind her, Aragorn was passing out earplugs. "A Ranger is always prepared for the worst," he said, handing two pieces of cork to Merry.  
  
Legolas perked up his ears. "You brought cyanide?"  
  
Pippin smiled secretively as Aragorn explained to Legolas why they couldn't gas Saruliel. After Legolas fell back into the group, Pippin spoke up. "I've got something."  
  
"What have you got?" asked Sam, who was leading Bill the Pony up a rocky slope.  
  
Pippin grinned and shook his head. It was his treasure. He had stolen it. It was the Sue's fault she had been too worried about her face-paint stuff to notice him. "It's Sue- I mean, Saruliel's."  
  
"Burn it!" shouted Boromir from the rear. "Do not let it contaminate you!"  
  
Pippin reached his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out what was unmistakably a cell phone to those familiar with the technology of Earth. This did not include any member of the Fellowship.  
  
"Isn't that one of those talkie things Peter Jackson brought?" asked Gimli, examining the thing's pink slipcover. "Let me see."  
  
Pippin handed over his prize reluctantly. After a few minutes of studying the contraption, (Which involved Gimli tossing the phone in the air, banging it into the ground, trying to split it open like an egg, giving it to Bill to chew on, and poking it with his axe) the "talkie thing" spoke.  
  
"Beep-beep, beep-beep... Hello? Kimberly! Omigod, like, like! I gotta- Kimmie? Are you there? Is the Caller-ID like, like, busted? Kimmie? Kimmie?" said the "talkie thing".  
  
Gimli started and dropped the device. Surely whatever thing the Sue possessed was the work of Morgoth. He was about to smash it to pieces when Gandalf intervened.  
  
The wizard examined the small pink device and tentatively picked it up. "Who are you?" he said, staring at it.  
  
"Like like, Kimmie? That you?"  
  
"Hello Like Like Kimmie, I am Gandalf the Grey. Are you imprisoned in this device?"  
  
Silence. Then a loud slamming noise.  
  
"What was that about?" asked Aragorn, coming to examine the now silent cell phone. He had been in a rather sour mood all week, what with Saruliel insisting on leaving Rivendell at dawn. "But they'll see us!" Aragorn had insisted. "Wise Saruliel will protect-eth thou!" had been the Sue's only response, other than several quick hair checks into a hand mirror.  
  
"It talked!" said Merry, pointing to the pink device.  
  
"No, really. Gandalf talked to it, and it said-" Frodo was cut off by a beeping from the strange gadget.  
  
"Hello?" said Aragorn tentatively, taking the phone from Gandalf.  
  
"This is 911 emergency help line. We received a distressed call from one Shelly Smith, claiming that her friend Kimmie had been captured by 'Old Men Perverts'. Can you confirm this?" said the small device.  
  
"Old?" said Pippin.  
  
"Men?" said Legolas.  
  
"Perverts?" said Gandalf.  
  
"Why does Saruliel keep such a device? It seems rather rude," wondered Boromir. "If I were to own such a thing, I would have it say nicer words."  
  
"'Boy, you sure can dodge arrows, Boromir!'" said Merry in a flattering, high-pitched voice.  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Merry!" chastised Pippin. "He saved our lives!"  
  
Boromir smirked and put on his "sorrowful voice". "I would rather just die once and be done with it. Not all this 'reincarnation for the Council of Elrond'. I would like to die to be remembered, a hero..."  
  
"How many times have we heard this? Thirty? Thirty-five times?" muttered Aragorn under his breath.  
  
"Thirty-seven," said Sam. "I've been keeping track." He pulled out an old "Yahtzee" score pad and made a tick mark under the "three of a kind" box, now serving the purpose of "Boromir's laments" box.  
  
The Fellowship had been through many fanfiction stories. Sometimes with different time lines, most with a strong (and annoying) female joining their ranks. After so many of these warps, they had accumulated a sizable collection of what Frodo termed "Weird Mathoms". This included a set of ivory chopsticks, tweezers, a pair of sunglasses, some Trombone slide oil, a bottle of Crisco, a snow globe, four ballpoint pens, a Bee Gees CD, the TV Guide for June 5th-12th 1996, and a game of Yahtzee.  
  
"Uhh..." said Gimli, who was still busy with the phone. "Who is Kimmie?"  
  
"We had a very distressed call from Ms. Smith about this. Don't joke around with us." said the people from 911.  
  
"Perhaps you are speaking of 'Like Like Kimmie'?" offered Gandalf, turning his back on Boromir, who had started up his favorite speech: "Alas, poor Boromir! I knew -know? Is it know now? anyway- I know him well..."  
  
"Like like what?" said the phone.  
  
"Do you have a stutter?" asked Legolas.  
  
"We're sending a squad over to investigate. Please remain calm." A clicking sound, and the voice was silent.  
  
Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow. "We are calm. You are the one who is worked up."  
  
A dial tone...  
  
The Fellowship (with the exception of Boromir, who had moved on to his "A life, a life, my -well, it's not really mine, it's Aragorn's, if you must know, anyway- my kingdom for a life..." speech) crowded around the pink device, waiting for it to speak.  
  
Two minutes passed.  
  
"I think we killed it," said Frodo.  
  
"What be'ast thines doing-ith?!" said a loud jarring voice from further ahead on their path.  
  
"Quick, hide it!" said Merry. "She'll know we killed it!"  
  
Legolas jumped into the underbrush, Aragorn threw a rock at Boromir, Gandalf created a campfire, Frodo sat down and looked burdened (in actuality the real One Ring had been destroyed long ago. Frodo was merely carrying around a plastic substitute), and Gimli moved Pippin away from the fire. Merry and Sam kicked the pink cell phone out of sight under Bill the Pony, and Boromir stopped mid-sentence in "Never was there a story of such woe, as Boromir, and the-the- What rhymes with 'woe'?".  
  
"What be'ast thine intentions, hot sirs? I mean, good-eth sirs?" said Saruliel, coming forward.  
  
A peculiar shaking sound came from the shrubbery. Like a certain Elf shivering in horror.  
  
"Setting up camp, O wise, fair, and obtuse Saruliel." announced Gimli.  
  
"Now lookie here, Geemi-Weenie! I am *not* fat, and I am not a triangle!" fumed Saruliel, rounding upon Gimli like an insane gorilla.  
  
"Did she just call him Geemi-Weenie?" whispered Merry.  
  
"Sure did. Let's add it to the list." Pippin said, pulling out their list of Obscene Nicknames Given to Undesirable Characters. He penned "Geemi- Weenie" underneath "Oldie Pants", a phrase used on Gandalf that had resulted in a smoking pile of Mary Sue Ash.  
  
Unfortunately, it was then that Saruliel spotted her cell phone. "Where did you- err, 'Where didst thines find-eth mine cell-st phone-ith?"  
  
"Cell phone?" asked Aragorn.  
  
Sam, however, had followed her gaze and saw the pink device standing out on the ground under Bill's stomach. "We killed it," he admitted guiltily. Just because Saruliel was a Sue didn't mean that Sam had lost his conscience.  
  
"You what-ith?"  
  
"No! She's seen it!" cried Pippin, launching himself between Saruliel and Bill.  
  
Anyone who has ever been a small four-legged domestic beast of burden (Gee, that's a lot of you.) will understand why Bill panicked at the sight of Pippin dive-tackling him.  
  
The sound effects for the following events went something like this:  
  
"NEEEEIIGGHHH!!"  
  
"Fwump!"  
  
"Clippity, clippity, clippity!"  
  
"CRUNCH."  
  
"My cell phone!! You [expletive] pony!" 


	4. Prelude to Caradhras

Saruliel was angry. And when Saruliel was angry, the Fellowship knew well enough to stay away from her. Thus the Canon band was about twenty paces behind the Sue, enjoying the solitude and wondering what they should do with all their free time.  
  
They were in agreement over one point, however; Saruliel's presence destroyed Canon. The Fellowship *would* take it easy this time, as they had already done their parts correctly many times before in fanfiction land. Boromir had already suggested that they pick up a couple orc carcasses in Moria and stage their own puppet shows in Lothlorien. Pippin had called dibs on the part of Saruliel.  
  
And Saruliel? Saruliel did not mind at the moment, her thoughts being elsewhere. Bill the pony had stepped on her cell phone, mashing it into millions of little computery bits, Sam had bitten her leg for swearing at Bill (sharp little Hobbit teeth, too. She was going to have marks), and Legolas had fallen out of his tree laughing. And then of course he had panicked and refused to let go of a large pine tree for several hours.  
  
The Mary Sue crashed through the underbrush, ignoring the flocks of ominous birdies circling overhead. They were approaching the foot of Caradhras, and Saruliel wanted to show how she could walk on snow. That would be impressive, and, as Legolas could do it as well, they could both find a snug little grotto and wait for the rest of the Fellowship, and maybe...  
  
"Crebain!" went up the shout from behind her. The Fellowship seemed to put more emphasis on the "ominous birdies" than Saruliel did.  
  
Saruliel turned in mid-stride, falling gracefully on her rear. "What be'ast thine troublings with the delightfullness of the creatures of the forest-eth?"  
  
The Fellowship caught up with Saruliel, who was, in the true fashion of her kind, wearing a bright red dress to clash with her orangey hair. The crebain would be able to see her for miles around, and as the Fellowship didn't want Saruman to send wargs or wainriders after them, they found it in their best interests to take cover. And this meant Saruliel, too.  
  
"Come on, Sue- Saruliel!" said Aragorn, grabbing her hair and pulling her under the cover of the trees. This was not a very wise move on Aragorn's part, as most people know that the most valued feature of the Sue is her hair.  
  
"AIIEEEE!!" screeched Saruliel. "That's my HAIR! That HURTS!" she screamed.  
  
Above them, the crebain swerved and made for the anguished screams of a Mary Sue in full hair-protection mode.  
  
Aragorn quickly let go, and dived under an overhang with the rest of the Fellowship. In his hand he held a hefty chunk of the Sue's orangey tresses.  
  
"Here you go, Gimli," whispered Aragorn, handing over the clump of hair. "For your collection."  
  
Sam pulled out his trusty "Yahtzee" scorecard and made a tick mark under the "sixes" box. This space was reserved for Gimli and Legolas' hair collection count. Whenever they had a bit of a break, the Elf and the Dwarf would weave the hair they had collected into a sort of blanket-sash. In actuality, it did resemble a Girl Scout sash, and the different hairs *were* a bit like merit badges.  
  
Like many things the Fellowship did because of the Sues, this action served no purpose what so ever. However, it did help to pass time. Kind of like a memory book, where the Fellowship could sit around and point to a swatch, saying, "I remember her! She tried to feel up Merry in Moria that one time, and got Gimli by accident!" and "Didn't Pippin set her skirt on fire when we were in Lothlorien?" Also, The Amazing Technicolor Hair Sash was interesting to look at, as the "midnight silver" bits looked strange next to the "raven black", which looked even weirder next to the "shades of golden sunlight bronze".  
  
Saruliel, meanwhile, was being attacked by the crebain. Yet in the true fashion of the Mary Sue, Saruliel loved all woodland creatures, even great evil birds that were intent on pecking her eyes out. Gandalf had dissolved into hysterics, watching Saruliel try to sing and "tame the wild birdies" with her voice while attempting to keep them out of her hair.  
  
"Maybe we should give her some assistance?" asked Frodo, wiping tears out of his eyes as Saruliel began to do something that resembled Tai Chi to ward off the crebain.  
  
"Oy, Saruliel!" called Merry. "Use your 'Magic Spellings'!"  
  
There was a noticeable freeze-frame, as if the author had paused and remembered something suddenly. Then Saruliel grew tall, and white/blue/silver light poured from behind her. "Abero lala wyneth niro tiyama sukko!" said the Sue in a commanding tone. Electric pulses shot out of her body and electrocuted every single crebain in a two-mile radius.  
  
"My Spellings doth show of my-eth great-eth teachings," said Saruliel, as her hair flew magically into place. ("How does she do that with her hair?" whispered Sam to Frodo. "Dark magic, I think." said Frodo.)  
  
There was an awkward pause as Saruliel looked around, expecting praise. Legolas quickly dodged behind Gandalf and tried look inconspicuous. Aragorn was trying to work out what exactly Saruliel had said, as it certainly wasn't Sindarin or Quenya.  
  
Silence.  
  
"Well..." said Boromir, rubbing his hands together and looking for something to say. Suddenly, a portal-type thing shimmered to life in front of them. "Oh, look! A plothole! Let's go to Caradhras." he paused, as the rest of the Fellowship and Saruliel looked over at the shimmering silver gate. "Oh, and we can take some of these crebain for provisions, maybe?"  
  
Gandalf furrowed his brow. "I don't think you can eat... oh..." Boromir had jerked his head to indicate Saruliel, who didn't quite catch what had happened.  
  
Merry and Pippin had caught on, however. They each took two of the bird bodies and stepped through the silver gate, waving happily to the Mary Sue. Gimli snorted and jumped through after them. Sam and Frodo urged Bill forward towards the gate, followed by Gandalf, then Boromir. In between that, Legolas had used his elven skills to slip through unnoticed. Finally, it was only Aragorn and Saruliel.  
  
"Go through the gate," said Aragorn. "It will save time."  
  
"I be'ast verily wary about-eth such devious creatures which nay cometh upon my-eth silvering bountifulness of such summering to the autumn and winterness of-"  
  
Aragorn was too fed up with the Sue to try to decipher what she had said, so he simply picked up Saruliel and tossed her through the shimmering plothole. With one last check to see if they had forgotten anything, Aragorn smiled and took a running jump at the quickly vanishing gate.  
  
He landed, as Boromir had predicted, at the foot of Caradhras. Gandalf, Frodo, and Boromir were conferring off to the side, as Merry and Pippin gathered up some firewood for a barbecue. Sam was plucking the crebain, and sitting directly in front of Saruliel so that she could be grossed out by the food preparation. Aragorn walked over to Gandalf and Frodo, and realized why they were standing in so close a circle. Legolas was trying to hide again.  
  
"What shall we do now? I personally don't want to go up Caradhras with her." said Frodo, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Saruliel, who had turned an excellent shade of green as Sam began to disembowel the crebain.  
  
"Why not push her off the mountain?" commented Boromir, grinning as Gimli gave Saruliel an extremely detailed explanation of what Sam was doing.  
  
"We never actually make it over the mountain, why not stay here and send her up to 'check the conditions' for us? She'll have to come back down anyway," reasoned Aragorn.  
  
"We might be able to slip off while she's up there," added Boromir.  
  
"No, I do not think it would be prudent to run off. With our luck and all the Laws of Irony set down by Manwe, Saruliel would make it over Caradhras and end up in Rohan. She would probably commence with stalking Eomer." mused Gandalf. The rest of the group nodded. Legolas shivered.  
  
"Who's Eomer? Have I met him?" asked Frodo.  
  
"We told you about Eomer, he was..." Aragorn trailed off with a description of Eomer for Frodo, who nodded and said: "Oh, yes! The one with the sister! I remember."  
  
"We can still send her up alone, though," said Aragorn. "I will tell her now."  
  
Legolas shifted speedily as Aragorn left a hole in his protective shielding of Fellowship. Frodo had suffered from his quest, but Legolas had become downright paranoid. This was evident in Legolas latest obsession: needlepoint. Somehow the sewing calmed his badly shaken nerves, and helped him temporarily forget all those Mary Sues that he had been subjected to.  
  
He had therefore stitched a personalized handkerchief for everyone in the Fellowship. Frodo's read "Frodo Baggins, Ringbearer and Hobbit, Mary Sues are Evil, I tell you, EVIL."  
  
About eight minutes later, Aragorn returned to the circle, grinning slightly. "She's going to leave right now. See for yourself, Legolas." he added kindly.  
  
Legolas straightened from his crouched position on the ground and peeked over Gandalf and Boromir's shoulders.  
  
It was, in a most unfortunate coincidence, that at that time Saruliel chose to look back at her "Hottest upon hot companions fair-eth". Oops, she meant: "Greatest upon good-eth noble-eth companions fair-eth" and saw the upper half of Legolas' head looking at her from over the Old One and the One Who's Going to Kick the Bucket's shoulders. She blew him a kiss.  
  
Legolas' eyes widened, and he froze. He could see the foul kiss of the Sue gliding towards him on the breath of Saruliel...  
  
"Ai, Ai!!" cried Legolas, as the airborne kiss slammed into his cheek.  
  
And then the Elf Prince of Mirkwood passed out. 


	5. Climb E'ry Mountain: The Mary Sue Popsi...

Saruliel pushed a pile of snow out of her path and took another step forward. Icy winds pelted her face, building up a mask of frost over her lips and nose. There were only two thoughts in Saruliel's mind: One, it was cold. Two, Legolas was totally smitten with her. Why else would he have fainted from her kiss?  
  
The Mary Sue turned a corner and paused. The path became much narrower here. She clung to the gray wall of Caradhras and felt snowflakes slam into her cheek. How was she supposed to look beautiful if she was half- encrusted with snow? Legolas had still managed to look hot with snow in his hair, why couldn't she? And it was cold, too.  
  
A couple more steps, and she slid down the mountain face into a sitting position. Exhausting, this was. Walking had been easy. But to push mounds of ice out of the way as well? Not good.  
  
Her Elven ability to walk on snow had done little good. Well, it might have, had Saruliel been wearing sensible walking clothes. For all of you wondering, dresses with delicate embroidery and fine beading do not constitute "sensible walking clothes". *Ah, well*, thought Saruliel. *At least my legs are warm*.  
  
*Leg?* thought Saruliel's "brain" (note the quotation marks). *As in, Leg- olas?*  
  
*Shut up,* answered Saruliel's survival instinct. *We can't have Legolas if we are frozen.*  
  
*We wants Legolas*, remarked Saruliel's hormones. *We does, Precious*.  
  
Saruliel sighed. It was so hard to work sensibly with that little voice in the back of her head demanding to have the Elven Prince. Ai, such were the tribulations of a Mary Sue.  
  
Saruliel yawned and rested her head against the rock face. Snow was piling up around her, but she didn't really mind at the moment. Her limbs felt heavy... very heavy. Maybe she would rest here for a little bit, then scout ahead and see if there was any better shelter later. *Yes, later...* mumbled her survival instinct. *We need rest now,* it thought.  
  
*Legolas...* murmured Saruliel's hormones.  
  
At the foot of Caradhras, under a small overhang of rock, the Fellowship of the Ring was playing Yahtzee. Or at least what they thought was Yahtzee. Despite all of the cultural contamination the Nine Walkers had received from Earth, they could still not read English. Aragorn and Frodo understood a few phrases, such as "hot", "I love you (Legolas)", and many, many curse words. But that still didn't allow them to read the instruction pamphlet.  
  
"Six dots!" shouted Boromir triumphantly. "You only have four, Frodo. I'm winning!"  
  
Frodo smiled in the time-honored fashion of a good loser and passed his die to Merry. "Come on Merry, beat him this time. He can't keep getting six dots forever."  
  
Merry took the small plastic cube and sat down across from Boromir. "One, two, three!" they said together, then each dropped their die onto the ground.  
  
"Och, who's winning now," said Gimli, who was smoking a pipe by the entrance of their camp. "Master Brandybuck has trounced your two dots with six!"  
  
Boromir sank down onto the ground. He never had the lead for long. "Fine, fine. Who wants to go next? Aragorn?"  
  
Aragorn, who was sitting in the back end of the cave with Legolas, shook his head sharply. Boromir quieted down. Aragorn was attempting to perform psychiatric-reconstruction therapy with Legolas, and this involved a lot of quiet. Actually, Aragorn had diagnosed that all Legolas really needed was some time away from the Sues, but this didn't happen often. Therefore, therapy.  
  
"Now, Legolas. Can you tell me how this all started?" said Aragorn, who had taken the sunglasses from the Weird Mathoms collection and was perching them on the bridge of his nose.  
  
"You know how it all began, Aragorn. You were there, remember? First there was one, and then... There were millions..." Legolas started. Suddenly, he jumped up. "Millions! Everywhere! EVERYWHERE. I can't breathe! No! No! No!"  
  
Aragorn pushed the Elf back into a sitting position before he hurt himself. "Do you want some Crisco?"  
  
Legolas nodded like a child at the doctor who has just received a painful shot, and now wants a lollipop in return. Aragorn passed him the bottle of cooking oil from the Weird Mathoms sack.  
  
"Mmm..." said Legolas, unscrewing the top and dribbling a bit into his mouth. He calmed down and stretched his legs out.  
  
Every other member of the Fellowship blanched. They had all tried the Crisco oil, and thought that it tasted nasty. How Legolas ever managed to eat that stuff was beyond them.  
  
At that moment Gandalf walked into the lean-to, shaking light snow off of his hat. "It has been three days since we sent Saruliel off on her own. Perhaps we should assume that she has perished."  
  
At the mention of Saruliel Legolas choked on his Crisco cooking oil and was reduced to a gibbering mass of Elf in the corner of the cave. Aragorn sighed and removed his psychiatric-sunglasses. "Did you have to mention Her now, Gandalf? I was making progress."  
  
Gandalf tilted his head slightly and pulled Aragorn out of the cave with his staff. Once they were out of Legolas' earshot (which was very, very far from the encampment) Gandalf spoke again.  
  
"Is it reasonable to assume that she is dead, then?" asked the Istari.  
  
"For a normal Man I would believe her dead. For a Mary Sue I might consider otherwise," answered Aragorn. "And we had agreed not to inflict Eomer with Saruliel."  
  
"We will have to investigate, it seems," replied Gandalf wearily. "Hopefully she will be dead."  
  
And so it came to pass that the next day Aragorn, Boromir, and Gimli set out to find Saruliel. Gandalf and Aragorn had decided that it was trouble enough getting the Hobbits up and down Caradhras in normal fictions, that they may as well only take a few up, as they were not even intending to try Caradhras. The chosen three were bundling up and gathering ropes in case they needed to tow Saruliel down the mountain. Legolas had even loaned Gimli the Amazing Technicolor Sue-Pelt to wear before having a spastic fit and shoving apples into his ears.  
  
Gandalf and Frodo waved good-bye to the party. Frodo was grinning fixedly through his teeth. "Do you think they'll come back with Her?" asked Frodo without moving his lips.  
  
"I hope not," replied Gandalf, also using ventriloquism. Even though Legolas' ears were stoppered, they had reason to believe that the Elf could read lips. Therefore, in efforts to prevent another psychotic episode... ventriloquism.  
  
That was a new agreement among the Fellowship, made just after Legolas had passed out from Sue-kisses: spare the blow of the word as much as possible. No mentioning the word "Mary Sue". The Valar knew that they didn't want another one of those "episodes" in which Legolas mistook Merry for Mary (Sue) and tried to tie him to the Bridge of Khazad-Dum.  
  
Gandalf and Frodo sighed. Why in all of Middle-Earth did They find them so appealing?  
  
Meanwhile, about halfway up Caradhras, Gimli had bumped into a large frozen block of ice. "Boromir, hold a moment," said the Dwarf, prodding the icy lump with his axe. "I think I found her."  
  
Boromir turned around and waded back through the trench he had created to where Gimli was brushing snow off of a mound of Something. "We should start a fire," said the Man of Gondor.  
  
Gimli nodded and left off his excavations to Aragorn and Boromir as he used his Dwarven skills to set a faggot of wood alight. Caradhras wasn't hindering the process much, as the mountain itself seemed to want the Mary Sue off of it too much to give the three Fellowship members much grief. Gimli held the bundle of sticks next to the top of the snow-covered lump, and Aragorn and Boromir moving to shield the flame from the wind.  
  
"It is Saruliel," sighed Boromir as the Sue's orangey hair was revealed from under the snow. "And I had so hoped that we had lost her."  
  
"Could she have survived three days frozen solid?" asked Gimli as he melted the bits of ice holding Saruliel to the mountainside.  
  
Aragorn peered at Saruliel's blue lips. All of a sudden, there was a cough from the Mary Sue. So she was alive. Boromir frowned and folded his arms over his chest. "It was too much to ask."  
  
"She has been frozen. Frozen sickness, frostbite, elevation sickness as well, it seems. But no, she is not dead. A curse upon these Sues that they are so hard to dispose of!" exclaimed Aragorn, looping a string around Saruliel and pulling her away from the walls of Caradhras.  
  
Gimli shook his head sadly and helped Aragorn roll Saruliel down the slope. Boromir went ahead of them and cleared a path. It was frustrating, considering that the Fellowship had been so close to losing Her. Ah, well. Some things are perhaps not meant to be. It was a couple hours later when Boromir spotted some level ground ahead, signaling the end of Caradhras. Then he noticed a rumbling sound. The Man of Gondor turned sharply.  
  
Saruliel had amassed a considerable amount of snow and was now rolling down Caradhras in the form of a gigantic snowball. Aragorn and Gimli jogged behind the frozen Sue, torn between amusement and concern that the ice chunk would flatten Boromir.  
  
The son of Denethor was no fool; he pressed himself against Caradhras and allowed the snowball to fly past him, down into the forest, where it banged into a tree and knocked loose several leaves, branches, and one startled Prince of Mirkwood.  
  
It goes without saying that the said Prince of Mirkwood then proceeded to have a hysterical fit after seeing the frozen head of Saruliel staring at him from inside of a large chunk of ice. 


	6. Saruliel's New Clothes

When Saruliel awoke, she was lying in front of a fire with several warm blankets wrapped around her body. She blinked her blue-silver-whatever eyes lazily, and wondered where she was. Hadn't she just been terribly cold? Legolas...  
  
Of course! Legolas had rescued her! Noble Elf, he had probably run up the mountain looking for his beloved, and nursed her tenderly back to health. What a sweet, dearie, hot, yummy, mmhmm... (A pause in which Saruliel did the mental equivalent of a cold shower) nice Elf.  
  
"You're awake," said a voice across the fire. Saruliel sat up wearily. Aragorn was leaning against the wall of the cave opposite her (for she was in a cave, Saruliel now realized) and smoking.  
  
"How did err... How did'st I becomings to such lovelieth of spoteths?" said Saruliel, rubbing her eyes (all the better to see an Elven Prince, my dearie).  
  
Aragorn put his pipe down. He went into medic mode. "You contracted disease while being half-frozen on Caradhras. We had to warm you, and then Gimli burned the snow away, and then I had to treat you for burns as well. Using a salve from the crushed petals of a Mabawakajuudgie plant, and the Essence of Blamerankallagong root, I created a paste of healing with which to revive you," said Aragorn smugly. In truth, all he had really done was defrost her gradually, but Saruliel wouldn't buy it unless he made it sound intricate. Hence the made-up herbs.  
  
"Didst Legolas-"  
  
"Boomboomdoomboomdoomboomdoomityboom!" came an odd voice from outside. Legolas seemed to be having one of his fits again.  
  
"No, you were saved by Gimli, Boromir, and I," replied Aragorn, blocking out the sound of Legolas trying to hammer himself into Caradhras. Needless to say, the Elf's efforts weren't working. Evil mountains do not want insane Elves inside of them.  
  
"You're awake then." Sam appeared at the mouth of the cave, carrying a bundle of firewood under his arm. "Can't say I'm glad," he muttered under his breath, depositing the bundle next to Saruliel.  
  
"Fool of an Elf!" came an irritable cry. "Do not anger Caradhras further. Now, I believe it's time to have our Talk." A few seconds later Gandalf strode into the cave, holding Legolas' elbow in a vice-like grip. The Elf was -not surprisingly- struggling the whole way.  
  
"Saruliel, we need to have a Talk," said Gandalf, once he had settled himself against the cave wall, next to Aragorn. Legolas was sandwiched in between them, trying to burrow into the ground. The effect for Saruliel was rather like talking to a panel.  
  
"What dost thyne wishest of mine-selfeth?" replied Saruliel, trying to appear "affectionately indifferent" toward Legolas. He whimpered.  
  
All of a sudden, realization, or perhaps something akin to it, pounced upon Saruliel, grappled with her beliefs, and branded them with a new thought. Legolas looked ill. Not just sick, but really, mentally ill. "Ist thyne noble-eth upon fair-eth Elf Prince all right?" she asked in a concerned manner. Worry flitted through her half-formed brain. If Legolas was mentally retarded, their children...  
  
*No* snapped Saruliel's mind. *Legolas, is he okay? Stay on track.*  
  
Aragorn grimaced. "That is what we were going to discuss. Legolas is, to put in mildly, *allergic* to you."  
  
"Be'ast it my magicallings of powerfulness?" replied Saruliel, who in her head was thinking that she probably shouldn't have worn that "Eau d'Magique" cologne that her mom... err... Galadriel had given her, if Legolas was having an allergic reaction.  
  
"What was that?" asked Aragorn, aside to Gandalf.  
  
"She wants to know if her magic is doing it," answered the wizard.  
  
"How can you understand her?" wondered Isildur's Heir.  
  
"Istari secret," replied Gandalf.  
  
Aragorn shrugged and returned to Saruliel. "In a way, perhaps, your magic is the cause. We have spoken with Legolas, and he has agreed to keep twenty paces away from you, if you, Saruliel, will keep thirty paces away from him."  
  
"Any measure shall be'ast taken to helpeth and cure-eth fair companion Legolas," agreed Saruliel reluctantly. Perhaps in Lothlorien Galadriel would be able to provide medicine for her Elf.  
  
"Legolas, you may go now," said Aragorn gently, looking at the lump that was Legolas' back as he hunched over himself, and out of Saruliel's eyesight.  
  
There was a keening wail from Legolas, and he wrapped his arms around Aragorn's boot. Aragorn sighed. It was trying to see his friend reduced to such a thing. Almost worse were the times when a Sue decided that he shouldn't love Arwen, and he never saw her in Rivendell. That, or she had been transformed into a horrible, whining wench, and was unrecognizable. Isildur's Heir rubbed his forehead. Arwen hadn't been through as many Quest Loops as he had, and was not yet strong enough to fight author influence. Yet sometimes he could see a glimmer in her eyes, that perhaps she knew what possessed her. And sometimes not.  
  
"Go on, Legolas," sighed Aragorn, pushing him forward. The Elf whimpered softly and scampered out the cave entrance. He turned back to Saruliel. "There is one more thing..." Aragorn paused and looked pleadingly at Gandalf. He did not want to be the one to do the next item.  
  
"Find Pippin, Aragorn. He is in possession of the thing." Gandalf stated, letting Aragorn take his leave. As soon as the Ranger was out of sight, Gandalf looked at Saruliel, who was still wrapped up in her blanket.  
  
"What did'st thou wishest to spake about-eth withest mine-self?" questioned Saruliel.  
  
"We are going through the Mines of Moria," began Gandalf. Saruliel did not seem especially surprised about this. Mithrandir continued. "You will not get far with such a gown, Lady."  
  
Saruliel's emerald-sapphire-diamond optics flitted to the hem of her gown. Eww, it was all tatty. *Needs new dress* whined Saruliel's hormones. *No Legolas without pretty dress!*  
  
*Legolas is sick* argued reasonable Saruliel. *We cannot be near the Elf Prince until he gets better!*  
  
*Wants Legolas NOWW!!* wailed the hormones, with a distinctly whining voice. *No Legolas without cleavage!!*  
  
*SHUT UP!!* yelled Saruliel (mentally). *Don't you hear what I'm saying? We, have, to, wait!* she said, punctuating each mental thought with a twist of her hand.  
  
The hormones went to whimper in the corner. Intelligent (overstatement, yes, but anyway) Saruliel sighed and mentally stroked the thought's silver- purple hair. *We'll have Legolas some day, just be patient.*  
  
Hormonal Saruliel Mental Voice looked up, her eyes streaming with tears. *Promise?*  
  
*Sure.*  
  
"Saruliel? Saruliel?"  
  
The Sue's head snapped up out of her mental repartee and looked at the wizard. "What?"  
  
"I said, the Fellowship discussed the problem and has found you some suitable walking garments," Gandalf repeated. For a couple minutes there he had seen Saruliel's eyes glaze over, in a way that reminded him distinctly of Gollum. The Istari shrugged. He couldn't fathom the Sue's "mind".  
  
"W-walking garments-eth?" stuttered Saruliel. Heaven forbid, no scarlets and fuchsia!  
  
At that moment Aragorn returned carrying a bundle of cloth. "For you," he said, dumping the pile at Saruliel's feet. He turned on his heel and strode out of the cave abruptly.  
  
Gandalf stood up and gathered his robes about him. "I will leave you to change your clothing." he said, and left abruptly as well.  
  
Saruliel felt slightly hurt that the Fellowship members didn't want to see her get... Eww... Gandalf... Saruliel remembered whom she was talking about. She untied the bit of string that held the bundle together and looked to see what the Nine Walkers had given her.  
  
On top of the pile was a shirt that Saruliel recognized as Boromir's. The Fellowship had actually had a great deal of fun picking out the clothes after Gandalf had broached the subject. Gimli had suggested that Boromir give a shirt, as he was the broadest in the shoulders, and Saruliel was somewhat broad as well... in the chest area.  
  
Aragorn had given a pair of breeches, which were in (somewhat) better condition than his usual attire. As soon as Saruliel put the black pants on she immediately realized *why* he had given them to her. They reeked of the Midgewater Marshes.  
  
Gimli had donated a pair of iron underpants*. Saruliel put this aside and thought that maybe she'd just keep her own.  
  
Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin had collaborated to sew her a nice sort of tunic. Saruliel looked at the fine handiwork and threw the shirt over her head without examining it closely. If she had checked the back, the Sue would have perhaps noticed the "Hit Me" message that had been stitched onto the back. Pippin was giggling about it for days to come.  
  
Gandalf had donated (somewhat grudgingly) an old gray cloak of his, all the while complaining about "no peace for an old man". It was his preplanned Rohan speech. Eventually Frodo had wheedled the cloak out of the old wizard, though Gandalf made sure it was the one he had received from Radagast in the earlier years. The one that Radagast had used to house his moth-friends.  
  
Unbeknownst to Saruliel, the topic of Radagast's moths had been discussed at great length by the Fellowship. Gandalf had declared that Radagast had given him the cloak as to be a homing-beacon to his moths so that they could find him anywhere.  
  
Then Aragorn, who had met Radagast briefly in past Quest-cycles, had asked if Iluvatar had allowed Radagast to grow Sea Monkeys yet.  
  
Gandalf had sighed and answered that even though Sea Monkeys were slightly more likely to adapt to Middle-Earth than horses with horns growing out of their heads, Eru still wouldn't allow it.  
  
Not knowing that this cloak had prompted a fascinating revelation about Iluvatar's beliefs on Sea Monkeys, Saruliel simply put on the large gray garment and moved on to the next item.  
  
It was from Legolas. He had been cajoled into giving Saruliel a pair of old shoes. And a leaf of poison ivy.  
  
A few minutes later Saruliel emerged from the cave, dressed in the Middle- Earth version of Salvation Army. Merry and Pippin, who were watching Boromir slice an apple with a single peel, broke off their attention long enough to stare at Saruliel's odd attire.  
  
Black pants, gray boots, wine-colored shirt, blue tunic, and a big gray cloak seven sizes too big... The hobbits were rolling on the ground with laughter in a matter of seconds. Saruliel felt the beginnings of frustration sweep over her. Why weren't they groveling at her beauty and congratulating her on her quick recovery?  
  
Perhaps it was the "Hit Me" sign.  
  
*********  
  
Author's Notes: Those of you who have and haven't already noticed, yes, I'm going for the Dr. Strangelove-sounding title. FF.net hasn't been cooperating with me lately, hence the delays and title problems.  
  
*"Gimli's Iron Underpants" is the creation of Lady Alyssa in her fic, "Bagenders". Just so you know, it's her invention, not mine. 


	7. Bonjour, et Bienvenue Moria

Moria. Dark, damp-place. At least that was what it seemed like to Saruliel. They had trekked for days (as it seemed to Saruliel), and that big wet fishy thing had been mean (as it seemed to Saruliel), and if Merry didn't stop looking at her back like that she was going to smack him.  
  
But they had made good progress, thought the Sue. The trip from Caradhras to the Sirannon had gone as well can be expected, especially with the Magic Rocks of Doom. For some reason this phenomenon had been following her for the past couple days, and Gandalf had had to explain to her that the "Magic Rocks of Doom" were an ancient fairy curse placed upon beautiful maidens which wandered near Moria.  
  
What Saruliel didn't know was that Gandalf was merely covering up for Merry and Pippin, who were using the "Hit Me" sign as an excuse to prove that they were, in fact, literate. Which involved small pointy pieces of gravel.  
  
And then there had been that whole affair with the Watcher thing. Saruliel didn't know what was so bad about that thing, it was probably just lonely. Big Bad Boromir had tried to hurt it, but Saruliel had said "No! It be'ast mine friend-eth of great-eth longing years-ith."  
  
And then it had tried to grab her ankle, so Saruliel had electrocuted it with her "Fairy Princess Magickalings Powerfullness". The Fellowship had dined on roast kraken that night.  
  
But now they were in Moria. Saruliel cursed as she tripped once again on Gandalf's cloak. Legolas' shoes were comfortable, but for some reason or other they kept becoming untied. Walking had become painful, and after a whole day spent in this realm beneath the earth her feet were blistered from the rocks that seemed to find their ways into her footwear over night.  
  
To top it all off, Saruliel's restraining order was still in place. She was quite angry about this, as the Nine Walkers sounded like they were having such a good time back there. Frodo was teaching Gimli and Boromir something called "Springle-Ring", and the quiet laughter that reached her Elven ears only served to remind her of what she was missing.  
  
Oh, and it was dark, too.  
  
Saruliel frowned. Why weren't they fawning over her? She had saved their lives with that Watcher in the Water, and they surely wouldn't have known how to survive on their own without her, so why, in the name of all the realm of Tolkien, did the not want her around?  
  
About thirty paces behind Saruliel, Legolas held his knives in front of him. He glanced at one of them, and then the other. The trill of a panpipe sounded melodramatically in the distance. The white band tied around Legolas' forehead whipped back in an invisible breeze, and his feet kept perfectly in sync with Boromir's paces. The Man of Gondor held his shield out in front of the Elven Prince, a slab of raw Watcher tentacle lying across it.  
  
"Hiyo!" proclaimed Legolas, slicing down in many quick vertical slices. His white knives moved too fast for Boromir to see, and Sam was jumping up and down, trying to catch a glimpse of the culinary art being performed over his head.  
  
"Hwichah!" said Legolas, tossing two coins of the Watcher into the air and spearing them on his knife. He slid the other knife sharply across Boromir's shield, flinging the remaining discs of meat into the air. "Swollen Bluejay!" commanded the Prince of Mirkwood.  
  
Aragorn stepped in, long since resigned to Legolas' names for them whenever he was in the "Samurai Mood". Quite a few of the Mary Sues had tried to convert him to Japanese culture, with katanas and all. The only effect had been to make Legolas think himself Iron Chef and Samurai Warrior all in one. Aragorn held Anduril out before him, and in five quick motions the last bits of the Watcher in the Water were skewered firmly on the legendary sword.  
  
Merry and Pippin clapped. "Do it again!" said the youngest hobbit.  
  
Legolas looked at them, his white headband giving the Elf a very oriental look. "No. No more Watcher meat, no more tricks. No tricks for you!"  
  
"Please Legolas?" asked Merry.  
  
"Not Legolas! Am... Pouncing Cricket! Pouncing Cricket say... no tricks for you!"  
  
Near the head of the party, Frodo was following Gandalf closely. "Do you think it's wise to make so much noise in Moria? We do not wish to awaken the orcs prematurely," asked Frodo, glancing up at the tall wizard.  
  
Gandalf shrugged and skirted a clump of rocks. "They will find Saruliel first. She will be gone, and then... Then our story will fail, and we will be back to the beginning again."  
  
Frodo's shoulders slumped. "Uncle Bilbo's story is 'There and Back Again'. I fear mine shall be 'There and Back Again, and There, and There, and There, and There, and There, and There' going on forever."  
  
Gandalf sighed and looked back at Legolas and Boromir. They were trying to make light of this situation, he knew. After passing through Moria over a hundred times they had all grown to know it quite well. And after the two hundredth time they had started to get irritated. And after the three hundredth time they were now starting to get bored.  
  
Up ahead of the party, Saruliel's borrowed Elven ears picked up the sound of Random Orcs. *They are coming for my Legolas!* thought her mind urgently, preparing her enormous (yet incredibly light) jewelled broadsword.  
  
*They cannot have Legolas!* screamed Saruliel's hormones. *He is mine, my own, my precioussss...*  
  
Sure enough, around the corner stood a band of completely Random Orcs, standing around, and comparing which of them needed the most dental work. It seemed the Author wished for Saruliel to show off her fighting prowess, and Moria was the target location.  
  
"But then I said, if I was about to have a root canal, why go all out and not do... Oh, hello. Are you-" the orc's voice was cut off as Saruliel sliced through its windpipe.  
  
"Take-eth that, nastyful yrch! You can'st not have-th mine Legolas-eth!" screamed Saruliel, her long reddy-orange tresses miraculously staying away from her eyes. "Blasto mefalda! Fasto boomro yrch mormoraka!"  
  
The made-up Elvish did its trick. The innocent, dental-conscious orcs were reduced to a pile of cinders on the floor. *I beat them,* thought Saruliel happily. *Yes, precious, we did.*  
  
*Let's wait and show Gandalf how smart we are, precious,* asserted the Sue's hormones. *Gandalf thinks we can't have Legolas, but we will get him. He will get better, precious, and we will get married! Yes, precious, we will have-*  
  
"What is that noxious smell?" said a voice suddenly. It seemed the Fellowship had caught up to Saruliel quicker than she had known. "Did someone light a bonfire here?" Saruliel recognized the voice as belonging to Boromir.  
  
Around the corner came the first of the Nine Walkers. Gandalf, in the lead with Frodo, frowned at the sight of Saruliel. His old face was arranged in a disproving expression that clearly said "Restraining Order?". But Saruliel did not pay him heed.  
  
"I have-th kill-ed-eth some creatures of true nastynessful. In great-eth danger to mine own life-eth, I have'st come through thine amazingly difficultyness taskings to enrapturously provide'st the comfortings of greatest happiness for-eth mine belov'd nobleth upon companions fair-eth."  
  
Gimli, who had just come upon the scene, quirked a thick eyebrow and looked quickly over his shoulder to where Legolas, or "Pouncing Cricket", would be appearing any time now.  
  
"Bwarf!" came the startled exclamation. Legolas had come up the stairs, and had indeed seen Saruliel. He jumped, about five feet in the air, looped an arm around Aragorn's neck (nearly choking him), used the momentum to swing backwards, and slid down into the dark of Moria.  
  
Aragorn gurgled as Legolas grabbed his neck, and reached out a hand to steady himself. Unfortunately for the Dunadan, "Pouncing Cricket" then let go of "Swollen Bluejay's" neck, and sufficiently threw him off balance, causing the Ranger to be knocked backwards and slide headfirst on his back down the flight of stairs.  
  
"Now look what you did!" exclaimed Sam angrily as Gandalf and Gimli sprinted back to check on Aragorn.  
  
"It be'ast nay mine fault-eth if mine beautifulness doth drive mine noble- eth companion fair Legolas into'st a great frenzyful fit of love!" protested Saruliel.  
  
"Restraining order?" said Gandalf pointedly.  
  
Saruliel sighed. Maybe it was her fault after all. *Can we ever do anything right?* wondered the Sue's survival instinct.  
  
*No, precious,* replied her hormones.  
  
The found Aragorn son of Arathorn sprawled on the last two stairs three flights down. His eyes were open, though he seemed to be having trouble breathing. Legolas was perched on a stone next to his friend, giving the best impression of Gollum in the headlights that Gimli had ever seen.  
  
Gandalf bent down and checked his pulse. It was there -very shallow- but still there. By that time Boromir had arrived, along with Merry and Pippin. "Is he all right?" asked Merry tentatively, looking at Aragorn's prone form.  
  
"I believe he shall make it," supplied Gandalf reassuringly. "Estel! Who was the leader of the second House of the Edain in the First Age!" he snapped all of a sudden.  
  
Life returned to Aragorn's open eyes. "Yee! Elrond! I did not mean to... oh. Do I know you?"  
  
"I believe that answers our questions. Come, Aragorn. Are you injured?" asked the Istar, reaching to pull the Dunadan up by his elbows.  
  
"Leg hurts, Elrond," murmured Aragorn. "Fix it?"  
  
Pippin poked Boromir's side. "How can he mistake Gandalf for Elrond?"  
  
Boromir shrugged. "Crazy Dunadain. They think that they are immune to everything. I expect we shall have to carry him, especially if his leg is broken."  
  
"Boromir, do you have those splints in your pack?" asked Gandalf, poking Aragorn's legs to find the damaged one.  
  
"You mean the hollow rods which we were to use to blow spit at Saruliel? Yes, let me see..." It took a few seconds, but Boromir finally produced the hollow spit-guns from his bundle. Merry and Pippin watched Strider anxiously as Gandalf bound his leg tightly. If they had been more learned in herb lore they would have been able to identify the various plant poultices which Gandalf used to bind the break, but as they were not, a simple phrase will have to do: Gandalf fixed Aragorn's leg and splinted it.  
  
It took little over an hour. At last, Gandalf and Boromir were able to lift the still dazed Dunadan into a standing position and half-carry, half- drag him up the steps. Legolas followed behind, his mind still occupied with the terror of Saruliel. Boromir grit his teeth. Legolas had been insane before, and now Aragorn was descending quickly into utter incomprehensibility. "Are you Elrond?" he babbled, wincing as his leg bumped into the steps. "My name is Swollen Bluejay. I live in the land of dreams and rainbows. Did you know that when you hit yourself, it hurts? If the sky were green and the grass blue, would we call them the gry and the skass? Why not? Did you know that if you sing the 'Release from Bondage' backwards, it really says 'Turin sings like a wart, Saeros is the bestest singer in Doriath'? Can you eat your eyebrows?"  
  
"Can we not sedate him?" grumbled the Man of Gondor.  
  
"We could not carry him if he were to be completely knocked out. And we cannot leave him in Moria. I fear what would happen if we were to linger here longer than in Quest Cycles past," answered Gandalf.  
  
"I like lembas," stated Aragorn. "It is nice and crunchy and sweet. If I had a jewel for every lembas that I have eaten, I would be able to buy Bill the Pony."  
  
Following in the rear, Gimli shook his head sadly and clapped Legolas on the back. "Do not think about Her, Master Elf. It is not worth the thought. Aye, and Aragorn shall be himself again soon. He has probably much worse than this in his time."  
  
"I have known Aragorn for a long time. I have never heard him even express an interest in 'Blobby Gobs of Liquid Squid Meat', however fleeting," replied the Elven Prince sadly. "It is my fault. I should not have tried to run... from her..."  
  
"... liquidy squidy meat! Runny elven tater pie! Stupid cakes that never rise!" sang Aragorn.  
  
The last corner was two steps ahead, and there would be Saruliel. Gimli, Merry, and Pippin quickly moved so that they could knee-tackle Legolas if needed. They turned on the stone floor of Moria, and there was the landing with three doorways. Gimli breathed a sigh of relief. Saruliel must have gone ahead again.  
  
But then the door to the guardroom opened, to reveal Saruliel, Sam, and Frodo peering out into the semi-darkness for the retrieval party.  
  
"Bwarf!" coughed Legolas. He prepared to bolt.  
  
Fortunately, the combined weight of Gimli, Merry, and Pippin was enough to push him to the ground, and to keep him there as the three sat on his back. It was rather like a rodeo, Legolas being the roped calf. His eyes were rolling madly in exactly the same way.  
  
The Fellowship (at least the partially sane ones) glared at Saruliel, who was openly drooling and emitting an aura of Suey "Ewww!"-ness. She appeared to have become more sickeningly beautiful than two hours ago when they had left, and she also seemed to have upped her cup-size.  
  
Seven murderous looks, one panicked gaze, and one amnesiac Ranger singing "And the Sue in the hole, in the hole in the ground, and the mound over top, and the green grass grows around, on the mound! On Haudh-en-Mary Sue!".  
  
It finally hit Saruliel of how much the Fellowship disliked her. 


	8. Noble Ideas, including 'The Dúnedain Son...

"Why doest thou not-eth like-eth myself?" wailed Saruliel for the fifth time.  
  
Boromir grunted in a manly way and drew his cloak about him tightly as he prepared for sleep. "We do not need you here, for the fifth time."  
  
Saruliel started to cry in the most beautiful way ever invented. Instead of becoming all red and having snot drip from her nose, her tears became "crystalline silver" and her eyes "swelled to the size of a that of a child loosing its mother". That last analogy did not quite make sense, but by that time the Fellowship was used to pointless and illogical comparisons.  
  
"Hush, foolish girl. You shall alert the orcs of our presence!" snapped Gandalf as Saruliel tried to blow her nose on his borrowed cloak. Gandalf looked around at the group as Saruliel tried to stifle her sobs. "And speaking of alerting orcs, are we not forgetting something?"  
  
Pippin jumped to attention. "Oh, yes. Sorry." The young hobbit got to his feet and grabbed a rock from the floor. Walking over to the well at the center of the guardroom, he casually tossed the pebble down into the depths of Moria.  
  
The Nine Walkers and Saruliel paused for a second, and then the soft drumbeats began to echo below them. Pippin prepared to take the place of sentry and the rest of the Fellowship arranged themselves for sleeping. Saruliel, however, did not understand. "What did'st thou doeth that for- eth?"  
  
Pippin shrugged. "Plot purposes."  
  
Saruliel nodded suspiciously, then remembered that she was In The Doghouse. "Good nighteth, mine fair companions lovelieth! Though thou dost nay loveth me -sniff- I shall be content-eth with mine role as yon unloved-eth princess of-eth Lothlorien. -sniff- No one-eth loveths myself, everyone- eth hateth mineself..."  
  
"I think I will go eat worms!" cried Aragorn suddenly.  
  
"Shut up, Aragorn," grumbled the rest of the Fellowship. Boromir especially hated Aragorn's amnesiac persona. Let it not fool you, Boromir knew Aragorn well. He knew what color socks he wore, when he shaved (rarely, that is), and many other things that one will only know after spending a near eternity with the same person on a road trip. But he did not like to see his friend crazy. It scared him. He worried how Gondor would look if the king went about capering with his fingers in his nose.  
  
Boromir had warned Aragorn many times after they became accustomed to the quest-loop: "Do not ever do anything to embarrass Gondor. And give me my gauntlets back." Singing about worms and bits of bloody squid would surely bring shame to his country, and Boromir would do anything to prevent this.  
  
All of a sudden Pippin stood up in shock. "Hold a moment, where is Legolas?"  
  
"First came Elendil, he was first! Then Isildur'n Valandil! Then there was Eldacar, Eldacar and Arantar--- Tarcil's after he! Tarondor and Valandur, then up next was Elendur--- Eärendur's after he, he, he!" sang Aragorn. "Amlaith of Fornost, eldest son of Eärendur, followed as Dúnadan! After was Beleg and Mallor and Celepharn--- Celebrindor's after he!"  
  
"Will somebody shut him up?" cried Boromir exasperatedly.  
  
"Malvegil, Argeleb, Arveleg and Araphor, they mostly start with... 'ARR!' Argeleb, Arvegil, Arveleg, and Araval! There's more to come you see! Ha ha!"  
  
"If I may ask, what is this?" questioned Sam.  
  
"Aragorn's ancestors," replied Gandalf bemusedly. "I wonder if he wrote this himself..."  
  
"Leading now was Araphant, hey that rhymes with 'Oliphant'! Arvedui's after he!"  
  
"Must he sing when he is concussed?" Frodo asked Gandalf as Aragorn moved on to the chieftains of the Dúnedain.  
  
"Aranath comes after Arvedui, he's the next that were, Arahael, Aranuir, then Chieftain Aravir! Aragorn and Araglas, Arahad lived in the past--- Aragost's after he! Aravorn and Arahad, Arassuil didn't last... 'Cause Arathorn's after he, he, he!"  
  
"Where *is* Legolas, anyway?" asked Merry, standing up to take a head count. The hobbit tentatively looked down into the well. "Not down there."  
  
"I'll go look," said Boromir, shouldering his shield. "I have to get away from him."  
  
"Argonui... Arador... They proceeded... Arathoooooorrrnnn..." The Ranger paused to take a deep breath. "Then's Aragorn, that's me! Ha ha!"  
  
"I'd say about thirty generations of Dúnedain are rolling over in their graves right now, wouldn't you, Mr. Frodo?" remarked Sam.  
  
"Yes, I would agree with that."  
  
Gandalf got wearily to his feet and stood to look sternly at Aragorn (who was seated with his back to the wall and his knees tucked under his chin, without a care in the world). "I daresay this will leave a mark, Aragorn, but I find that it is for your own good." The Istar brought his staff down in a great "crack!" on Aragorn's head. The Dúnadan's eyes unfocused briefly, then he was Aragorn again, rubbing the mark on his forehead.  
  
"I had another... episode, if I can guess correctly," said Aragorn, blushing slightly. "How far did I... go?"  
  
Gandalf patted him on the shoulder. "Do not despair, Aragorn. I stopped you from getting to the part about all of the children that you intend on having with Arwen."  
  
"Thank the Valar," mumbled Aragorn.  
  
At once, the door burst open and Legolas was thrust into the room, Boromir behind him. "Come now, show them what you have," said Boromir, gripping Legolas' shirt collar.  
  
Legolas squirmed around and said "Bwarf!" a couple of times before he dropped the Trombone slide oil from the Weird Mathom's sack which he had had clenched in his fist.  
  
Gimli got anxiously to his feet. "Legolas, you know you are not supposed to eat that!"  
  
Boromir ground his teeth together disapprovingly. "He was not eating it, he was simply DEFILING MORIA."  
  
This did not quite produce the reaction that Boromir had intended.  
  
"But, Boromir," said Merry. "Moria *is* defiled. There are skeletons and such all over the place. What could Legolas do?"  
  
Boromir rolled his eyes. "Do you want to see this?" He opened the door and stood back for them to look. Gandalf walked over and held up the light of his staff in order to see. The beam fell on the stone stairs, and the oily Trombone goo reflected in the light. Phrases such as "I hate Saruliel!" and "I'm a bachelor!" written in Sindarin stood out.  
  
Saruliel, who had remained quiet for the past few minutes became the subject of many amused gazes. Anticipation hung over the small room.  
  
Saruliel said nothing. She walked back over to her bedroll and curled up with her back to the Fellowship. All of you who had money on her reaction must now pay up.  
  
Legolas' eyes darted back and forth warily, then he curled up like a great, watchful cat in the corner opposite the Sue. Gandalf cleared his throat in a manner which suggested the phrase "that was uncalled for" and guided the rest of the Nine Walkers back into their camp. "Sam, second watch with Saruliel," said the Istar before settling down to sleep.  
  
*Why did I come here?* asked Saruliel's mind quietly.  
  
*We wants him, Precious... Legolas...* replied Saruliel's hormones.  
  
Saruliel choked back tears. *Legolas doesn't want us, Precious.*  
  
*Aragorn?* offered the hormones.  
  
Saruliel pushed those thoughts to the back of her head and began to ponder her recent discovery. *Why doesn't the Fellowship like me? They never like what I do for them, and I bring the vivacious girl power so lacking in that J. R. T. Tolking, whatever-his-name-is' books. Why don't they like *meee*?* wailed Saruliel mentally.  
  
Some time later Saruliel awoke to someone shaking her shoulder. "Up you get, Saruliel. Time for our watch," said Sam. Saruliel moved herself into a sitting position and leaned against the wall wearily.  
  
"Why dost thine noble-eth companions fair-eth nay likest myself?" blurted Saruliel before she could compose herself.  
  
Sam seemed a bit startled by the question. "What makes you say that?"  
  
Saruliel leaned forward as if about to impart a great secret. "Well, have- est thou ever noticed-eth how mine lovelieth Legolas dost run from mineself? Or how yon companions-eth Merry and Pippin point-eth at myself and giggle... -eth?"  
  
Sam bit his lip. "Well, yes, Miss Saruliel..."  
  
Saruliel banged her fist on her knee. "Well, why dost thineselves not liketh mineself?"  
  
Though Saruliel could not see it, Sam raised his eyebrows and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps if you learned to speak better, we wouldn't have such a hard time understanding you," he offered.  
  
"Speaketh better? In which waying-eth?" Saruliel was startled. She had this 'Olde Englishe' down pat!  
  
"Mayhap if you started using 'I am' and 'me' instead of 'mineself' and 'I be'ast'?" suggested Sam, fiddling with the edge of his cloak.  
  
"I... am?" stammered Saruliel. "But thou nay'ast talketh like that styling!"  
  
"I am Samwise Gamgee," said Sam coolly. "Try it."  
  
"I... am... Saruliel," said she, looking more confused by the second. "How be'ast -are, I mean are- y-you?"  
  
They practiced until their watch was over. Saruliel went to sleep with the phrase, "Why do we not go this way?" running through her mind (which prompted some rather nasty reveries about flying street signs, but that is beside the point).  
  
Day broke (presumably) and the Fellowship was off once again. Saruliel took her position as vanguard, reciting her verb conjugations with each step.  
  
"I am Saruliel, You are Legolas, He is Legolas, She is Saruliel, We are Elves, You all are *not* Elves, They are much in love," she said, skipping on one foot with each phrase.  
  
*Why didn't anyone tell us that Legolas doesn't like our speakings, my Precious?* wondered Saruliel's hormones darkly.  
  
*They must have liked the sound of my delightful voice too much to tell me otherwise,* said Sensible (overstatement, yes, yes, I know) Saruliel.  
  
"I have a pretty dress, You have a bendy-bow, She has a magic sword, He has arrows, We have fighting things, You all do not have fighting things, They have much in common," said Saruliel, pleased with her affirmation.  
  
Meanwhile, about five passes behind the Sue, the Fellowship was having a Meeting.  
  
"I just taught her some basic things to say!" protested Sam. "Something not garbled and unintelligible, you know, so we can tell what she is talking about?"  
  
Aragorn folded his arms over his chest as he walked. "It is a noble idea, Sam, yet I doubt Saruliel's mind will be able to grasp these concepts."  
  
"She seems to be doing all right up there now," said Sam.  
  
Legolas furrowed his brow suspiciously. "Master Hobbit, tell me truthfully. Have you taken a liking to that monster?"  
  
Sam shrugged. "No, I still don't like her one bit. Annoying thing, worse than midges. But I did feel a little, you know, pity."  
  
Gimli clucked deep in his throat. "She will turn on you, Master Hobbit. Once she digs her claws into Legolas your kindness will be wasted. Never waste generosity on a Sue. She will desert you once she knows how to write sonnets for Thranduilion."  
  
"Since when do you call me Thranduilion?" asked Legolas incredulously. Saruliel turned back to glance over her shoulder (she walked into a wall after that, but anyway) at Legolas, and the Elf ducked behind Gimli.  
  
Gimli tilted his head slightly. "Plot purposes."  
  
"I found-eth, no, I found something!" cried Saruliel suddenly. Gandalf hurried ahead, moving quickly with his staff.  
  
"This not noteworthy, Saruliel. It is merely the Great Hall. My, if I had a jewel for every time I had seen this," Gandalf murmured under his breath.  
  
The Great Hall of Khazad-dûm was massive. Gimli never stopped being in awe of the pillars or beautiful fretwork that his ancestors had wrought in these caverns, no matter how many times he saw them. "I suppose Balin's tomb is ahead, then," commented the Dwarf casually. "Is everyone ready? We have this Hall to trek and a fight to win before leaving."  
  
*********  
  
Author's Note: "The Dúnedain Song" is mine. I wrote it! *chuckles quietly* Don't steal it! Some time after it was completed I realize that the tune is a compilation of that accursed Spongebob song and the William Tell Overture (neither of which I own, fortunately). Anyway, go figure.  
  
Oh, and the Author will now take this time to thank all of the reviewers. We like reviewers, don't we, Precious? Yes we do, Precious. (Hint, hint -review!) 


	9. Two Eyed, Two Horned, Giant Flaming Balr...

In tribute to the many Sue authors who have come before us, we will now pay homage to Saruliel's great beauty. Clearing the throat, the narrator begins.  
  
Saruliel was thin, but not scrawny, nor was she fat or pudgy. Her skin was a pale color that tanned in the summertime, but she didn't burn because she's an Elf and Elves don't do that. She was as graceful as a bird, with long luxurious red hair that fell down her back in ringlets of golden orange. Her eyes were a vivid green, greener than all the emeralds of the world. Around her swan-like neck hung a great pendant of silver which held a crystal that was full of bluish-purple flames (which had a tendency to provoke run-on sentences when not watched). Her clothing has been mentioned before, yet, in the tradition of the Sue authors who have gone before us, will be mentioned once again. For the sake of the reader, we will start another paragraph.  
  
Saruliel wore the pants of Aragorn, though to her disappointment Aragorn was not in there with her. She had been given the spare shoes of Legolas, and the shirt of Boromir, as well as the tunic-coat of Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin. Around her shoulders was the spare cloak of Gandalf Greyhame, a moth-eaten garment which had seen better days. However, even this second-hand rainment could not disguise Saruliel's natural flawless beauty, or the fact that she was a Mary Sue.  
  
We will now move on with the plot of the story. Thank you for your patience.  
  
The Fellowship reached the chamber of Mazarbul with time to spare, thanks to the fact that no one insisted on gaping in awe at the Hall, as they had all seen it many times before. Saruliel led the way into the large record room, which, through lack of detail, was sprouting many uncanonical things. One of them being a working phonograph and CD player.  
  
My loveliath-lovely-lov- Saruliel paused and took a fresh breath. she asked, trying out her new dialect. Pippin pretended to cough to cover his sniggering.  
  
What be so funny? asked Saruliel. Whose tomb be this?  
  
Gimli grunted and pointed to the stone coffin. Here lies Balin, son of-  
  
Aih! Aih! Aih! Aih! Stayin' alive, stayin' alive! Aih! Aih! Aih! Aih! Stayin' allliiiiiivvvee... cried a voice suddenly. Gimli turned to look annoyedly at his (using the word of Saruliel) , Merry.  
  
Och, what are you doing? he shouted over the horrendous wailing.  
  
Merry appeared quite pleased with himself. You remember the little round shiny thing that we found a while ago? Well it fits into this thing, right here, said the Hobbit, pointing to the uncanonical stereo system.  
  
Saruliel listened amazedly as the sounds of the Bee Gees filled the Dwarvish chamber. How did music from her world get here? The thought baffled her microscopic brain, and she went into a screen-saver mode.  
  
Gandalf, meanwhile, was debating with Aragorn. But if it is a troll this time, we would be best off barricading that side of the room.  
  
From the signs we have seen so far in this quest cycle it will most certainly be an Uruk. There were no Nazgul at Bree this time, and there is no well here. I think we might be in oldverse!  
  
No, no, said Gandalf. An old-cycle is too unusual now. It used to be that we had only simple tasks in this purgatoric realm, reliving our old quest. But now, the new-cycle has begun, and we are constantly battling off these Sues'. I do not know where that term comes from, but I wish that we were left in peace.  
  
Aragorn shrugged. Very well. We will prepare for a troll.  
  
The Fellowship and Saruliel stood on their guard. With a hefty swing of his axe, Gimli destroyed the stereo system. The sounds of the Bee Gees were never again heard in Middle-earth, thank the Valar.  
  
Suddenly the door burst open, and into the record room came a horde of yrch. Aragorn and Boromir made a quick job of the forerunners, their skills being raised to the umpteenth power through repetitions of the fight. Pouncing Cricket, meanwhile, melted back into the shadows and silently finished off the straggling orcs in true ninja fashion. It was a tribute to their skills that the fight lasted less than ten minutes.  
  
Is it an Uruk or a troll? asked Merry, counting the number of orcs in his pile.  
  
Quiet, young Took. We know not.  
  
A boom shook the chamber, and Merry's question was quickly answered.  
  
I was right! It is an Uruk! cried Aragorn happily as a great ugly head burst through the crumbling door.  
  
I would not be so sure of that, Master Aragorn. Look at the rest of him, said Gimli, readying his axe.  
  
From the chamber stepped a great... something. It had the head of an Uruk, definitely, but the body was, well, there was no other word for it, a troll. Merry let out a short bark of laughter. 'Tis a Truluk-lai!  
  
Saruliel, who was not happy to be out of the narrative for this long, stepped forward, rainbow-colored lights brimming from her cupped hands. Globby hacky sacky pow-pow! she screamed. Jolts of lightening shot out from the Sue's fingertips, and collared the, well, . Die die die die! screamed Saruliel, and the beast fell to the floor, dead.  
  
Near the back of the chamber, Sam pulled out his Yahtzee scorecard and created a new column next to his Enemies dead row. Naming it , he made a short mark. Thus the Truluk-lai went down in history.  
  
The Fellowship and Saruliel hurried onward. As they ran, Pippin whispered to Boromir, Mayhap they will mistake the Balrog for the Watcher, and we might have a Balcher in the Rogter'.  
  
Boromir grinned but kept his pacing. With tentacles in place of wings? he asked, hurrying around a corner.  
  
There was a heavy crash behind them, and Aragorn urged them to move faster. A wave of heat spilled over the Fellowship like a goblet of warm milk over a fine linen tablecloth. It was coming.  
  
Saruliel, you have the bridge, said Merry, brushing past the willowy Elf-maiden. We're all counting on you to beat the Balrog and save Frodo!  
  
Gandalf raised his bushy eyebrows and instantly stumbled. I think I am getting too old to do this sort of thing. My years are almost spent, and an old Man like me has to watch himself. Oh, there goes my back...  
  
Saruliel nodded, her golden red curls bobbing in the dim light cast by the Balrog's glow. I will do-eth, do it for thou, Noble Old Gandalf! And for thou, Noble Frodo!  
  
She's so easy to manipulate, said Gandalf, as he hurried over the bridge with the rest of the Fellowship.  
  
I *know*, said Merry, laughing to himself.  
  
Saruliel stood on the Bridge of Khazad-dum, running over the made-up Elvish spells that would invoke her Sueish powers. Lounging on the other side, the Fellowship watched this confrontation take place, putting bets on how many syllables Saruliel would get out before the Balrog had eaten her.  
  
I say twelve, said Frodo. And I bet my faux One Ring substitute on it.  
  
Boromir's eyes glinted. Okay, so it wasn't the real One Ring, but it still had sentimental value. I say fifteen, and wager this chunk of mithril that I found in the deeps of Moria, left over from the Elder Days.  
  
Gimli poked at the metal that Boromir removed from his pack and shook his head. This isn't mithril, tis wadded up aluminum. Though I have never seen it in such thin sheets.  
  
Very well, this stack of alumin-  
  
Frodo examined the wad of aluminum foil and smelled the onion sauce coming from it. Where did you get this? It doesn't look like anything from our Weird Mathoms sack.  
  
Boromir scratched the back of his neck embarrassedly. Weeeeellll... I found it, back in the Chamber of Mazarbul. I think it belonged to one of the Dwarves. By the way, Gimli, what is Subway'? In Khuzdul, I mean.  
  
Gimli furrowed his brows, perplexed. I am not- He was cut off by a tremendous cracking of stone as the Balrog ignored all rules of common courtesy and burst through the wall instead of bothering to use the door.  
  
screamed the Balrog as it smashed into the cavern. WWWRRROOO- Oh, hi! Nice to see you again, Gandalf! How are things on the outside?  
  
Gandalf tipped the brim of his hat and nodded to the demonic Maia. Reasonable. I see you have broken the trance of Author Influence?  
  
The Balrog sniffed, nearly inhaling Saruliel. Oh yes, quite a long time ago. I was just pulling your leg those last couple of times. Say, why don't you join me for some tea on top of Zirak-zigul? We certainly have a lot to catch up on since the First Age, don't we?  
  
Ah, you see... began Gandalf, appraising the rest of the Fellowship. Then he saw Saruliel, and decided that he would be a truly lousy person if he did not take the time to catch up with old acquaintances. I think that would be a lovely idea.  
  
But Gandalf- started Aragorn, whining with all of his Numenorean might.  
  
I will see you later, said Gandalf, glancing meaningfully at Saruliel. And do try to keep her... *away* from Legolas.  
  
Aragorn sighed. Yes, Gandalf.  
  
And *don't* let-  
  
I *know* Gandalf, replied Aragorn, with the air of a husband being told by his wife to not let those filthy orcs tramp all over the living room.  
  
Very well, said Gandalf. The Balrog did an ungainly hop-step and fluttered off the bridge, then Gandalf took a running leap and cast himself into the chasm. I'll seeenndd yooouu a pooosstcaaarrdd! he called back, falling into the dark abyss.  
  
It took Saruliel about ten minutes to register what had happened. And then she let out a great wail of anguish. I didn't get to fiiiigghhhtt! Now Legolas doesn't liiikke meeeeeee!  
  
I hate to break it to you, Saruliel, but Legolas never liked you much to begin with, said Frodo, with the air of one explaining to a toddler why it is that their friends don't like it when said toddler pulls on their hair and steals their juice.  
  
My life has no meaning! cried Saruliel. I knew it! I knew it when he wrote that stuff on the walls! I have superior female instincts about these things! Oh, woe is me, woe to the woe of Saruliel-  
  
An orc arrow grazed her shoulder, and Aragorn rubbed his forehead. They would never get out of Moria if Saruliel didn't move a bit faster. Merry and Pippin grabbed Saruliel's arms, trying to pull her out, but to no avail.  
  
Oh I am so befrought with cursed love! cried Saruliel. Oh, what a cruel fate this is! Oh dear Legolas who- Hey, put me down! Aragorn! You can't just pick me up and carry...  
  
For Aragorn had done what had worked last time on Caradhras. He had picked up Saruliel and slung her over his shoulder, and was now running for the door, not caring when Saruliel's head knocked into the wall.  
  
Bang. Crash. Thump. That hurts! Splat.   
  
Thus Fellowship of the Ring left Moria.


	10. Theme from Lothlorien

Author's Note: Apologies, apologies, apologies for not updating for so long. I had half of this chapter on my hard drive for about three months, and I just couldn't figure out how to end this part. I expect that the next chapters will be a bit sooner in the coming. Thank you all for your patience, I hope you enjoy this part.  
  
*********  
  
You cannot enter this land, said the Elf, pointing an arrow at Saruliel's forehead.  
  
But Galadriel's my mother! protested Saruliel, her voice a plaintive whine. There was an awkward moment as the world seemed to rewind and start again. Gandalf had once told Frodo that this was called an .  
  
Haldir smiled in a far-off sort of way. Welcome to Lothlorien, Fair Lady Saruliel, I knowst not what horror took me and maked me say such unkindly things to thineself, he said, dropping to one knee in a cross between a bow and a marriage proposal.  
  
La la la la, sang Rumil and his brother, dropping their bows in favor of frolicking about and strewing rose petals at Saruliel's feet.  
  
I just remembered why I hate Lothlorien, grumbled Boromir, following the rest of the Fellowship under the eaves of the golden wood.  
  
For indeed, Caras Galadhon was teeming with beings completely enamored of Saruliel. See how loved I am? said the Sue, smiling as if she had just tricked Legolas into dipping himself into a great vat of cream.  
  
The Fellowship growled as a party of Elves ran up to Saruliel, embraced her, then carried her off to be their very own Vala, complete with hymns and personal manicures.  
  
Let us see how Galadriel has fared with Saruliel masquerading as Celebrian, suggested Gimli, trudging forward without blindfold.  
  
Aragorn stopped dead in his tracks. Oh, do not say that! For that would mean that she shall be my in-law!  
  
Pippin giggled behind his hand. You certainly manage to pick them well, he chortled.  
  
'Oh, Aragorn, I love what you have done with Minas Tirith!' said Merry in a high-pitched voice. 'Sure you could nay'eth use some pretty butterflies and kittens around the place?'  
  
Aragorn hid his discomfort well, and certainly hoped that Saruliel would be long gone before he was crowned.  
  
And then they were standing before Galadriel, who was arrayed in a robe of gaudy purple linen with an oversized crown on her head. This was specified whenever the guard announced her as Queen Galadriel. Gimli went over to one of the support beams and started to bash his head against it. Saruliel chose that moment to appear as well, sparkling almost as much as her mother, except that her shade was tinted pink.  
  
Pst. Over here.  
  
Gimli looked up from his frustration and saw Lord Celeborn sitting on one of the steps, swinging his feet over the edge of the _talan_. The dwarf left the Fellowship to the usual nancy introduction to sit beside the Elf lord.  
  
How are things on the outside? asked Celeborn, offering Gimli a piece of lembas that smelled neither of Tollhouse nor Chips Ahoy.  
  
It is grim, said Gimli. Fell beasts walk abroad, great evil roams the land, Sauron has risen, and your daughter' has been trying to molest the Elf since we left Rivendell.  
  
Celeborn shook his head, his silver hair spilling over his shoulders. It is not much better in these woods. Galadriel has fallen into shadow. Lilac eye shadow, to be precise.  
  
And how do you fare? asked Gimli.  
  
Celeborn grinned. Some days I am not myself, and feel a great urge to become Master Elrond and pronounce four-letter words somberly. Other days I am forgotten, and may walk unseen in the woods. He picked up a small pebble from a pile beside him and tossed it from the flet, waiting for it to go (or hear someone yell All right, who's the stupid sod who threw that?).  
  
Saruliel is not your daughter, then, I presume? asked Gimli as Celeborn tossed a pebble at the Sue. It smacked her in the face, but as she didn't appear to see who had thrown it, must have assumed that the Magic Rocks of Doom were at it again.  
  
Not mine, said Celeborn defiantly. I have no red-haired kindred, nor, I think, does Galadriel. That and the fact that Celebrian has gone into the West.  
  
agreed a random Elf, one of the few who were not enamored of Saruliel. She wouldn't want to be around to see this.  
  
Celeborn snorted and pulled his knees under his chin. I never thought that Galadriel would go... this way, if you catch my meaning. She was so strong.  
  
Gimli patted him on the back. Och, Lord Elf, the Lady is strong, but this terrible power is stronger. We have journeyed all the way from Rivendell, and still she refuses to kick the bucket. Even though we have tried, and tried to dispatch of that wench, she still refuses to fall!  
  
Chicken grease under one's stilettos can sometimes really trip you up, have you tried that? asked Celeborn helpfully. Gimli raised his eyebrows until they disappeared beneath his helmet, and the Elf Lord finally blushed and looked away. Like you haven't been in one of those gender-bending cycles.  
  
Wanting to change the topic of conversation as quickly as possible, Gimli produced the snow globe from the Weird Mathoms sack and handed it over to Celeborn. Here, we found this a little while ago, and I thought you might like it.  
  
Ooo, pretty... cooed the Elf Lord, watching the sparkly bits float up and down. Suddenly he started and nearly dropped the souvenir as it began to play the music It's A Small World After All.   
  
Gimli caught the thing and cradled it protectively. You might have broken it; I am working to reproduce the design, but still have not been able to create the pinging sounds that come from within.  
  
It is a palantir, said Celeborn, eying the device suspiciously. Within its depths, I saw the battlements of a castle, surely it hails from Barad-dûr; you have found a tool of the Enemy!  
  
I doubt Barad-dûr has signs that say Greetings from Euro-Disney' all around it, said Gimli in a patient, slightly sarcastic voice. He shook the snow globe one last time, then put it back into his pocket. In any case, I wish that it were in my power to make Lothlorien more habitable, as it once was. My heart grieves to see the Lady thusly.  
  
Celeborn sat bolt upright as if someone had pressed a red hot poker to his back. Well, that or someone had told him that Saruliel really _was_ his daughter, but that her mother had been a winged horse. Perhaps there is something your companions might accomplish to lighten the shadow which has come over us, said Celeborn. Ever since Galadriel became Queen' --oh, how Amroth would be displeased, I don't think we ever _made_ the last payment on Caras Galadhon-- we have been free of orcs and all manner of pestilence that once troubled our realm. I am thinking-- I am guessing-- that if some sort of danger were to return to this land, my people might rally to their senses and leave behind this flowery slop about Butterfly Road to Happy Thoughts' and The Art of Kitten Zen'.  
  
Gimli retched. What, praytell, are those?  
  
Pamphlets written and distributed by my beloved _daughter_, growled Celeborn. Enemy propaganda if I ever saw it.  
  
muttered a random elf.  
  
mused the dwarf. I see great possibility in that notion, yet we could never defile this land by bringing in _yrch_...  
  
Gimli's eyes suddenly brightened, and a slow smile formed under his beard. Oh, Boromir...  
  
Later that evening, Boromir had flatly refused. I will _not_ pretend to be the Necromancer just to free this land! he cried.  
  
You're going to die anyway, said Frodo, Why not die for a truly noble cause-- the salvation of Lothlorien...  
  
And dying for us wasn't heroic? protested Pippin indignantly. I'll have you know that Merry and I are very worth dying for, said the hobbit.  
  
Yes, if we had been killed in that massacre, who would have destroyed the Witch-King? argued Merry.  
  
said Aragorn. It just would have taken a bit longer.  
  
But-- but-- sputtered Merry. Pippin jumped in to give his friend time to engineer a comeback.  
  
Who would have alerted Treebeard and saved all of your necks at Helm's Deep?  
  
said Gimli grimly. It just would have taken a bit longer.  
  
Eh, eh, eh, started Pippin, lapsing back to the time in which he had been a very young, childish hobbit. Sam! Make Aragorn and Gimli be nice!  
  
Boromir shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. I only die for Merry and Pippin. Not for the Elves. That's the way it has always been, and that's the way I'll do it. Merry grinned cheekily at Aragorn over Boromir's shoulder.  
  
Oh, really... said Frodo, removing the plastic-Ring-substitute necklace.  
  
*********  
  
Boromir was peeved. Not just this is so annoying and I wish I were anywhere else but here peeved, but I'm going to kill the [expletive] [censored] [execration] that did this to me peeved. On the plus side, he did have the Ring. But as it wasn't in the position to do any good for Gondor (it's inscription said Rings, rings, the magical loot / Put me on, I'm really a hoot), but the fact that he had it _was_ the principle of the thing.   
  
Oh, stop moaning, said Aragorn, his mouth full of pins. This will only take a minute...  
  
Celeborn was hanging upside-down from a low mallorn branch, applying a liberal coat of dirt to Boromir's face. As the only member of the Fellowship (save Gandalf, may he take his tea in peace) who knew what Sauron had looked like in the elder days, he was in charge of the costuming. That should do for your dark complexion, but, hmm... How shall we give him crimson eyes?  
  
Frodo had a sudden thought, and pulled out the rose-tinted glasses from the Weird Mathoms sack. Will these do, Lord Celeborn?  
  
*********  
  
Well, it is... interesting... said Aragorn, tilting his head sideways.  
  
I think it might have been better to just give him a great long spear or something and pretend that he's the Establishment, said Sam frankly.  
  
Well, does it look all right? asked Boromir for the fifth time, trying to twist around to see his back.   
  
As practically nothing was black in Lothlorien anymore (most was tie-dyed, actually), the Fellowship had had to scrape together what best they could for a Sauron costume. Thus the breeches were dark blue and pink, the breastplate was a deep purple with a pattern of whiskered kittens, (and, for some odd reason, brown paper packages tied up with string), the cloak was dark green with embroidered pansies, and the helm, though muddied up, still displayed a golden inlay of butterflies. The rose-tinted glasses made Boromir queasy, but Celeborn had forced him wear them anyway.  
  
If you die, we'll mourn you forever, said Pippin, his hand over his heart.   
  
Have a good time! waved Merry.  
  
Mutter, mutter, said Boromir, pulling the helm over his face. The rose-tinted spectacles flashed under the visor.   
  
*********  
  
It's nice to be loved, said Saruliel, sighing as she sank back into a bubble bath. Galadriel nodded, a misty smile on her face (to a more observant person, the clenched set of her jaw might have been a little more noticeable, but not so to the Sue).   
  
Around the clearing, Elves strummed lutes and braided each others hair. Orophin had a laundry tub set over next to the bole of a mallorn tree, and was making gray tie-dyed cloaks. Rumil had a prosperous little business going with mallorn-print silk boutique. It was the perfect image of peace and tranquility.  
  
Until the Necromancer appeared.   
  
What are you doing? roared the Necromancer. You're not even making this _fun_ any more? He waved his mace, scattering the silk boutique booth and causing Rumil's lip to quiver. It was cute to begin with, yes, the Elves have a new hobby, how nice. But the challenge died faster than a fly in Cirith Ungol! Yes, here we go to fight the Elves, one of the races most skilled in warfare of all Arda', I tell my orcs. And then they show up, and you're making The Necromancer lifted the edge of a garland from where it had fallen to the ground.   
  
Saruliel toweled off and put on her dressing gown as soon as danger presented itself. She started chanting in her mystical language, but nothing happened. No bolt of blue lightening crashed from the heavens to smite the intruder, no bolt of divine purity made _maius gorthaurus_ an extinct species. I-I'm loosing it? she sputtered, staring at her fingers, her sickening eyes doubling in size. This is not possible! Mommy!  
  
Saruliel ran off into the woods with the other Elves, but Galadriel did not. She had grown taller, and the light of the Elven-kings across the sea bore up within her, and she became the creature of majesty that had once, so long ago, taken the Oath of Feanor and lead her people into Exile. Her eyes blazed with the Light of Aman, and she stepped toward the Necromancer, a song of power flowing from her lips.  
  
I'm sorry, don't hurt me, said the Necromancer in a very small voice. He stepped backwards, trying to retain his dignity and look Galadriel in the eyes, but it was too much for him. I-I'm going back to Barad-dûr now, he said. Then the Necromancer turned tail and fled.  
  
Galadriel smiled.   
  
*********  
  
Boromir blundered through the undergrowth of Lothlorien, the hem of his cloak catching on the greenery every so often. Why did _he_ have to be the Necromancer? Was it because he was expendable? Or did everyone just not like him?  
  
He crashed through a thicket and ran into another person.   
  
Sorry about that, let me help you. A gauntlet made of dark steel reached down and grasped his elbow, pulling the Man of Gondor to his feet. Boromir pulled his hand back. The man's touch was like a burning brand...  
  
Boromir stared at Sauron. Sauron stared at Boromir.  
  
Nice glasses, said Sauron. 


End file.
